Hey guys! It's River again, for the third time tonight XD. Anyways, this is something I've had for a while now. It's pretty scatterbrained, I'll be the first to admit that, and poorly written, I'll also admit that, but I wanted people to read the rough draft so that I could see if it would be a good idea or if I shouldn't even attempt making a revision of this. Anyways, the poem below is something I found while on Fictionpress. All credit is given to the author. WHHS WRITERS CLUB.

For my three Ks, my two Ps, and my single A & R,

wishing you all the best...

...

As children we are bred,

bred to be docile and obedient.

Never to step out of line

or have an unkind word to say.

As children we are bred,

Bred to listen to those around us

And take their cues.

As children we are bred!
Can't you see it?!

We're just their puppets

While they stand above us

Working the strings

To make us, their little dolls, move.

Using us!

Using us to live a life

Without the mistakes they made in theirs.

Open your eyes, please!

I don't wish to be the only one that truly sees!

But I forgot...

As children we are bred,

Bred to be docile and obedient.

Bred to never speak what we truly think.

And some fit perfectly within that mold

Our creators have conjured for us.

As children we are bred.

Never to speak.

Never to see.

By the time we notice

It's too late and my cries fall to guilty pleas.

For as a child I've been bred...

And my soul's already lost to me.

–Rachel Scott

Preface

The first thing that came into my mind when I walked into the living room on July 27th and saw the bright red stains on the carpet was: Mother's going to be mad. At that moment I didn't see the dead body lying next to the fire place or my mother sitting in that same classy chair she's had since her glory days as a ballerina, swirling the brandy in her glass. Her face eerily calm.

Finally, my eyes trailed down the fireplace. The sickly sweet smell of death hanging in the air. Wide green eyes stared back at me, a mirror of my own, and that's when I—staring into the unmoving eyes of my father—screamed. My mother's arm reached out with such grace, as if to caress my cheek, and slapped me.

"Do not scream, Child. I will not have any of that in this house," She said simply, drawing the glass to her lips.

I grasped my burning cheek, staring down helplessly at my father. The only friend I had in the world, the only one who truly loved me. And I was staring at his body. Horrified, I looked up at my mother, tears searing in my

eyes. And what she does next has me realizing something I should have known my whole life.

As the woman I called Mother smirked, ruefully satisfied, at my father's distilled body I finally understood what he had been saying all along. She was crazy.

And I, helping my mother take the ax to his body like firewood, was too.

Well, let me know what you think. Please don't just read this and not leave a review. I've gotten a lot of hits on my other writings and yet hardly anyone is leaving reviews. The most hits I have is close to 300 and yet I've only had eleven reviews. (THANK YOU, YOU ELEVEN, IT MEANS A LOT TO ME!) But, then again, you don't have to. *Shrugs* XD

~River Shadowtress